While You Were At Uni
by The Wayward Angel
Summary: "I missed you," Sherlock said, closing his eyes, "While you were at uni. I missed you desperately. Father became unbearable after you left."


**Allie: What is sleep? Like I don't even…  
Raye: Something you do when you don't have an internet connection…or your laptop battery dies.**

**Warnings: one shot, incest, sexual situations and probably a lot of other things…so if this squicks you then leave now or forever hold your peace.**

**Trigger warnings: alcoholism (implied mostly), incestuous relationship between brothers**

**Disclaimer: Nope, not even close to being mine.**

_While You Were At Uni_

Sherlock was never one for outward affection, not even as a child. He didn't like when people held him as a baby, but he never screamed or cried. Instead, he would simply glare and pout moodily when he was picked up and held. So, the first winter Mycroft came back from University, he was extremely surprised when his younger brother hugged him the moment he stepped through the front door. Mycroft had shrugged him off, of course, because caring and love –even familial love- was for the weak plebeians in the outer world. He instantly regretted it though when he saw the young teenager flinch.

Sherlock pulled away from him immediately, mumbled something about needing to finish homework (bollocks, as he was on winter break as well), and rushed off to his room in the East Wing. It happened so quick, Mycroft was half convinced that it hadn't happened at all. Surely the thirteen year old hadn't just appeared from nowhere to hug him at the door and then dash away like a spooked rabbit. Surely.

Mycroft shook his head and continued inside the manor to his own room in the West Wing, a maid having already carried in his suitcases from the car. His mother intercepted him near the den and welcomed him home with a kiss on the cheek.

"Where's father?" Mycroft had asked after kissing his mother back.

His mother, Violet, frowned very lightly, a troubled look on her beautiful face, "He's in the study dear, but I wouldn't interrupt him at the moment. He'll see you at dinner." She said lightly.

The twenty year old frowned a little in mild confusion but nodded, "I see." He replied, though he didn't see, not really. His eyebrows then raised a little in thought, "Oh, mother, has Sherlock been acting strange lately?" He asked.

"How do you mean, Mycroft?" Violet replied.

"When I arrived he hugged me." Mycroft explained, "And when I did not return the hug he dashed off to his room as though I'd lit his coat tails on fire."

Violet hummed a little in thought, "No, he's been acting as normal as he usually does…perhaps he just missed his older brother." She said with a smile.

"Perhaps…" Mycroft replied.

"Now, I'll assume you'd like to shower up after that long car ride. Dinner is at seven, as always." Violet said and moved to exit back into the den, "Oh and Mycroft," The young man looked at her, she smiled, "We missed you." She said softly. Then she was gone.

…

Dinner was an awkward, silent affair. Mycroft sat next to Sherlock, but the brilliant boy refused to meet his eyes or even talk to him. His father sat at the head of the table, drunk but quiet. His mother sat to the left of his father, directly in front of him. The only sound filling the room was the clinking of their utensils and plates and platters.

"So, Sherlock," Their father slurred, locking his slate blue eyes on the dark-headed boy. Mycroft noticed that his younger brother flinched. "Tell your brother you're a poofter yet?"

"Sigern!" Violet gasped, bringing a delicate hand to cover her mouth.

Sherlock shrank further in his chair, letting his fork clatter on his plate.

The silence was deafening.

"Got a girlfriend yet, Mycroft?" Sigern directed his attention to his eldest son, eyes dark with accusation.

"I'm seeing a nice girl, yes." Mycroft replied in an even voice (was it his imagination or did Sherlock tense at that?), "She's a sophomore, thinking of going into law school. She's intelligent enough."

Sigern grunted and nodded, "Good, good; least I raised you right." He muttered.

Sherlock dismissed himself from the room.

…

Hours later, long after Violet and Sigern had retired for the evening to their separate rooms, Mycroft snuck across the house to his brother's wing. He silently located his brother's room and pressed lightly on the door. Just as he had expected, the boy had left it unlocked.

"I thought you'd never get here." The boy said, sitting up in his bed.

He'd grown since Mycroft had last seen him and was almost as tall as Mycroft himself, but he was still lithe and pale like a porcelain doll with high cut cheekbones and dark hair and almond shaped eyes and cupid bow lips. His little brother, now that he thought about it, was rather beautiful.

"What did father mean, at dinner?" Mycroft asked, sitting on the bed next to his brother.

Sherlock pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them tightly, "Father is under the assumption that because I show no interest in females, I have a sexual attraction to males."

"It's all right to be gay, Sherlock."

"I know that." Sherlock snapped, glaring at Mycroft, "But I'm not gay. I don't like females or males." He said, scrunching his nose up in distaste.

"Oh?" Mycroft replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you really have a girlfriend?" Sherlock asked, curious.

"You tell me."

"You don't." Sherlock said, "You're gay."

Mycroft nodded, a bit proud, "If you know the answers, then why ask the questions?"

"So I don't look like a presumptuous arse." Sherlock replied, pulling his knees in closer.

Mycroft frowned, "Sherlock, has father been-"

"Yes."

Mycroft's face darkened, "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."

"I missed you," Sherlock said, closing his eyes, "While you were at uni. I missed you desperately. Father became unbearable after you left."

"Sherlock we've spoken about this." Mycroft said, "Feelings get in the way of intellect. We must mask those feelings in order to be logical."

"I know." Sherlock said, "I…I know."

But as hard as Mycroft tried to fight, he knew it was useless. He loved his little brother, deeply, more than he should. "Sherlock…" Mycroft said gently, reaching out a hand and cupping his younger brother's cheek.

"My…" Sherlock sighed, leaning into the gentle touch, letting his blue eyes fall shut.

Mycroft stroked a thumb across Sherlock's cheekbone gently before moving his hand up to run through dark curls, "Sherlock, you are so very beautiful." He said.

The young teenager opened his eyes back up to look at his elder brother, "I lied, My." He said.

"I know you did."

"It's not that I don't feel sexual attraction."

"I know."

"I just don't feel it with anyone, except you."

"I know, Sherlock." The elder replied.

"You said, Mycroft, that we must mask feelings to act logically."

"Indeed, I did."

"So, why-"

"Because, I believe, we have earned the right to act a little illogically for once, agreed?"

"Agreed."

Sherlock surged forward and kissed his older brother hard, wrapping his long arms tightly around the elder's neck. Mycroft kissed Sherlock back just as hard, nipping at his lips a little with his teeth, his fingers fisting Sherlock's hair tightly. Sherlock whimpered, just a little, and submitted beneath his older brother. Mycroft growled lightly in pleasure, pushing his brother back against the bed, sliding off his younger brother's sleeping clothes.

Sherlock gasped and whimpered as Mycroft pushed a hand down his trousers, gripping his slightly hard length, "Ungh, My, wait." He gasped out.

Mycroft pulled away slowly, "Are you all right, Sherlock? Am I hurting you?" He asked gently, rubbing Sherlock's side gently.

"No, I just-" Sherlock flushed a lovely shade of pink from his chest to the tips of his ears, "I don't know…what to do…" He said, frustrated. It was a rare occasion that Sherlock didn't know what or how to do something.

"I know brother-mine, that's why I'm here." Mycroft whispered heatedly into his little brother's ear, "To help you know what to do. May I touch you?" He asked.

"Do I have to stimulate you as well?" Sherlock asked.

"I will never force you to do anything you are uncomfortable in doing, Sherlock." Mycroft replied, "If you do not wish to touch me in this manner then I can do it myself. I'd like to focus on you though, if I may."

"You may." Sherlock whispered in return.

Mycroft nodded seriously and returned his hand to the teen's trousers, placing his hand back inside and stroking. It didn't take much for the poor lad, as Sherlock had never masturbated before, so in no time he was coming inside his trousers and on Mycroft's hand.

Mycroft smiled and stood, pressing a light kiss to Sherlock's forehead, before walking to his en suite bathroom to fetch a cloth to clean the younger male. He washed his hands in the sink before wetting a cloth and walking back into the bedroom, peeling off Sherlock's trousers and cleaning him.

Sherlock looked sleepily up at Mycroft as his older brother redressed him in new sleep clothes. "Are you staying?" The brilliant boy asked, reaching out a hand to Mycroft, "Please, My?" He whispered, "Just for tonight."

"We'll have to wake early so I can go back to my wing." Mycroft warned.

"Please?" Sherlock asked again sleepily, his eyes fluttering shut.

Mycroft crawled into bed beside his younger brother, pulling him against his chest, "Okay, okay." He said softly, "Now, go to sleep brother-mine. I'll be here when you wake." He said, kissing the dark haired boy's temple.

…

The next morning Sherlock stretched out and reached for his brother only to find a cold spot where his body had once been. Sherlock jolted up and pulled on a dressing gown, heading to the West Wing of the manor where his brother stayed. He threw the door open angrily, letting it slam against the wall.

Mycroft was sitting on his bed with a book in his lap, reading. He raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, "Yes?" He asked.

"Where were you?" Sherlock seethed, drawing his gown against him closer, "You said you'd be there when I woke."

"I apologize, but you slept in late." Mycroft shrugged, "We can't have mother or father finding out about this. Think, Sherlock."

Sherlock pursed his lips before nodding, "Will this…will this continue, whatever this is?" He asked softly, looking innocent and vulnerable.

Mycroft's eyes widened at the fragile looking state of his younger brother and he stood, pulling him into his arms, "Sherlock," He said gently, "As long as you want this to continue, it will." He promised, "I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you too, My." Sherlock mumbled, closing his eyes and relishing in his brother's affection.

They both knew it wouldn't last, and that when it ended it would hurt them both terribly, because they were two halves to the same whole. They understood each other so perfectly they could have been twins; it's what attracted them to each other in the first place. Logically they knew that they couldn't stay together, not if Mycroft wanted to go into the British government, but they would enjoy it for the brief time they could.

Sherlock sighed finally pulled away from his elder brother. He bit down on his bottom lip and Mycroft stroked his face gently, "You need to get back to your wing and get ready for breakfast, brother-mine." Mycroft said, nuzzling his younger brother's neck gently.

Sherlock finally smiled brightly, a very rare and privileged sight, "Okay." He said and kissed his brother lightly on the lips before heading back to his own wing. Mycroft watched his brother walk away and finally genuinely smiled.

It would hurt so badly when they finally had to give this up. It would kill them. Might even ruin them and their relationship as brothers, but at the moment Mycroft couldn't bring himself to care. Logic is sometimes overrated.


End file.
